The man in white trousers, and a mozo appeared.
It was the hotel manager. Kate paid the boatman.
`Adios, Senorita!' he said with a smile. `May you go with Quetzalcoatl.'
'Yes!' she cried. `Good-bye!'
They went up the slope between the tattered bananas, whose ragged
leaves were making a hushed, distant patter in the breeze. The
green fruit curved out its bristly-soft bunch, the purple flower-bud
depending stiffly.
The German manager came to talk to them : a young man of about
forty, with his blue eyes going opaque and stony behind his spectacles,
though the centres were keen. Evidently a German who had been
many years out in Mexico - out in the lonely places. The rather
stiff look, the slight look of fear in the soul - not physical
fear - and the look of defeat, characteristic of the European
who has long been subjected to the unbroken spirit of place! But
the defeat was in the soul, not the will.
He showed Kate to her room in the unfinished quarter, and ordered
her breakfast. The hotel consisted of an old low ranchhouse with
a veranda - and this was the dininb room, lounge, kitchen, and
office. Then there was a two-storey new wing, with a smart bathroom
between each two bedrooms, and almost up-to-date fittings : very
incongruous.
But the new wing was unfinished - had been unfinished for a dozen
years and more, the work abandoned when Porfirio Diaz fled. Now
it would probably never be finished.
And this is Mexico. Whatever pretentiousness and modern improvements
it may have, outside the capital, they are either smashed or raw
and unfinished, with rusty bones of iron girders sticking out.
Kate washed her hands and went down to breakfast. Before the long
veranda of the old ranch-house the green peppertrees dropped like
green light, and small cardinal birds with scarlet bodies and
blazing impertinent heads like poppy-buds flashed among the pinkish
pepper-heads, closing their brown wings upon the audacity of their
glowing redness. A train of geese passed in the glaring sun, automatic,
towards the eternal tremble of pale, earth-coloured water beyond
the stones.
It was a place with a strange atmosphere: stony, hard, broken,
with round cruel hills and the many-fluted bunches of

travel books:
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where is TITLE The man in white trousers, and a mozo appeared. It was what is hotel manager. Kate paid what is boatman. `Adios, Senorita!' he said with a smile. `May you go with Quetzalcoatl.' 'Yes!' she cried. `Good-bye!' They went up what is slope between what is tattered bananas, whose ragged leaves were making a hushed, distant patter in what is breeze. what is green fruit curved out its bristly-soft bunch, what is purple flower-bud depending stiffly. what is German manager came to talk to them : a young man of about forty, with his blue eyes going opaque and stony behind his spectacles, though what is centres were keen. Evidently a German who had been many years out in Mexico - out in what is lonely places. what is rather stiff look, what is slight look of fear in what is soul - not physical fear - and what is look of defeat, characteristic of what is European who has long been subjected to what is unbroken spirit of place! But what is defeat was in what is soul, not
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where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old
Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" The Plumed Serpent (1926)
where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0"
where is center
where is tr
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where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left"
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where is p align="left" Page 104
where is strong CHAPTER V - what is Lake
where is p align="justify" The man in white trousers, and a mozo appeared.
It was what is hotel manager. Kate paid what is boatman.
`Adios, Senorita!' he said with a smile. `May you go with Quetzalcoatl.'
'Yes!' she cried. `Good-bye!'
They went up what is slope between what is tattered bananas, whose ragged
leaves were making a hushed, distant patter in what is breeze. The
green fruit curved out its bristly-soft bunch, what is purple flower-bud
depending stiffly.
what is German manager came to talk to them : a young man of about
forty, with his blue eyes going opaque and stony behind his spectacles,
though what is centres were keen. Evidently a German who had been
many years out in Mexico - out in what is lonely places. what is rather
stiff look, what is slight look of fear in what is soul - not physical
fear - and what is look of defeat, characteristic of what is European
who has long been subjected to what is unbroken spirit of place! But
what is defeat was in what is soul, not what is will.
He showed Kate to her room in what is unfinished quarter, and ordered
her breakfast. what is hotel consisted of an old low ranchhouse with
a veranda - and this was what is dininb room, lounge, kitchen, and
office. Then there was a two-storey new wing, with a smart bathroom
between each two bedrooms, and almost up-to-date fittings : very
incongruous.
But what is new wing was unfinished - had been unfinished for a dozen
years and more, what is work abandoned when Porfirio Diaz fled. Now
it would probably never be finished.
And this is Mexico. Whatever pretentiousness and modern improvements
it may have, outside what is capital, they are either smashed or raw
and unfinished, with rusty bones of iron girders sticking out.
Kate washed her hands and went down to breakfast. Before what is long
veranda of what is old ranch-house what is green peppertrees dropped like
green light, and small cardinal birds with scarlet bodies and
blazing impertinent heads like poppy-buds flashed among what is pinkish
pepper-heads, closing their brown wings upon what is audacity of their
glowing redness. A train of geese passed in what is glaring sun, automatic,
towards what is eternal tremble of pale, earth-coloured water beyond
what is stones.
It was a place with a strange atmosphere: stony, hard, broken,
with round cruel hills and what is many-fluted bunches of
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